


half-finished

by happyisahabit



Series: poetry prompts - naruto [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Comfort, Could be SaiSaku if you want, Gen, Post-War, emotional validation even if vague, just some friendly acceptance and chilling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:41:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27582869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happyisahabit/pseuds/happyisahabit
Summary: “Sometimes, we can’t finish what we start, and that’s okay.”Sai is not familiar with the concept.
Relationships: Haruno Sakura & Sai
Series: poetry prompts - naruto [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2016248
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	half-finished

**Author's Note:**

> First time ever writing Sai. Got a prompt for 'leaving the sunset half-finished', my choice. This is SaiSaku flavored, but more about their friendship and the feeling you sometimes get when you can't find it in yourself to finish something you start.

“There you are,” says the familiar voice behind him. It is followed by a muted noise of amusement or maybe fondness that he’s more used to hearing her apply to Naruto. Sai is still trying to figure it all out.

The sketchpad on his lap and the pastels at his side are ignored as Sakura sinks to sit beside him. He looks at her, waiting for her to state why she had been looking for him, but she just looks out at the scenery. The soft golden light of sunset burnishes her pink locks a peculiar color of orange, maybe like sherbert. She’s still wearing the standard Konoha kit of black pants and long sleeve shirt, but her flack vest and headband are missing, the sleeves are pushed up to her elbows and the pant ends tucked into her usual boots.

When she continues her silence, Sai turns back to his sketchbook, eying the half-formed landscape critically. Technically, there is nothing wrong with it. The colors match. The formations of the forest and mountains and cliffs before them are perfectly representative. Still, it doesn’t…  _ feel  _ right.

Frustrated-  _ at least he could identify that now- _ he sets down the pastel in his hand in the correct slot in his mini case. The book sits on his legs and Sai stares at his fingers, the muddled colors mixed there and under his nails. Slowly, Sakura reaches over and pulls the pad from him.

“A half-finished work?” she asks, curious. “Not like you to leave something undone.”

Sai looks at her through his bangs, taking in her uncharacteristic slouch and the darkness beneath her eyes. Still, when she hands it back, the light creases at the corners of green eyes and the quirk of her lips do not look forced or faked. He takes the pad gingerly, trying not to smudge the edges of the clean parts of the paper with his pastel covered fingers.

“I just,” he starts, then stops. Folding the cover over the book to close it, he sets it to the side on top of his little art kit. “I wasn’t… feeling it.”

He isn’t sure that’s the right phrase for what he feels, but even with all of ROOT’s training he’s never felt the kind of ambivalence towards his own art before. Sakura hums and tilts over to the side, her shoulder pressing lightly into his.

“I understand,” she says and Sai can feel the tiredness in her voice. He wonders how she can understand what he doesn’t about his own feelings, but that ambivalence eases when he leans back towards her in kind. “Sometimes, we can’t finish what we start, and that’s okay.”

Sai is not familiar with the concept. He’s never not finished something unless the mission failed. 

Her head falls to his shoulder and she inhales deeply. Breath released slowly, controlled, she pulls one of his hands up in front of them. The sunset is dying and he’d have to remember the particular mix of colors it utilized by himself if he ever is to finish the piece in his sketchbook.

“Do you want to finish it?” Sakura asks softly. She seems to be comparing the colors mottling his skin to the remaining light in the sky, but even Sai can tell that they no longer match.

“Of course,” he responds immediately, a gut reaction. Sakura continues twisting his hand around silently. “I don’t know,” he amends. “No,” he decides.

She just holds his hand up and smudges the colors there together even further, tinting her own skin. The new pigment is gray and brown hued and Sai feels this is somehow appropriate. It reminds him of the tired expression on Sakura’s face and the empty feeling he had holding that pastel crayon over his work. 

“Okay,” she accepts easily.

The first blues of the night sky spread over the space before them and Sai tilts his head to see how the burnished warmth of Sakura’s hair has faded to a pale lilac. Her eyes are closed, but her fingers still trace over his. Something in him shifts into place as he adjusts his hand, fitting their fingers together.

Sakura lets him and they sit there, hands interlocked, as the stars begin to wink above them. The colors from the sunset are already forgotten, but Sai doesn’t feel it a loss. His mind sorts out the shades of the half-finished sunset and replaces them with swathes of twilight blues and gentle purples. He closes his eyes and lets the tension he didn’t know he even had in his neck release. Head knocking softly onto Sakura’s, he feels… calm.

“Maybe I’ll finish the next one.”


End file.
